221B Challenge
by xravenscroftx
Summary: I know it's a little late, but here is my answer to the 221B Challenge. Please R&R! I, sadly, don't own Sherlock Holmes, or Watson, Mycroft, Lestrade, or anyone, for that fact. Well- I do own the thugs in #3&4, but it's not like I want them...
1. Worry

"So, you found out

"So, you found out." Mycroft stated, appearing in the Stranger's Room at my summons.

"Yes."

"And now you are wondering why he did not entrust his secret to you?" I nodded. "Don't take it too seriously, Doctor. During the past 3 years, the only messages I have received were about him moving or needing more money. They couldn't have been more impersonal if written by a stranger."

"At least you knew he was alive."

Mycroft gave a snort. "You were spared many a gray hair. Sherlock would often not write for months, leaving me to fret over whether he remained okay- heaven knows what sort of trouble he could have gotten into!"

_You were spared many a gray hair._ But was I? I had begun to worry so much for Holmes, it was second nature. His death, on the other hand had been an awful shock. I sincerely doubted Mycroft's words.

"Still-" I hesitated. My friend was back, and that was all that mattered, but honestly, "He could have at least written a letter- just a simple 'I'm okay' would have sufficed!"

"Doctor- as I said, don't take it too personally, or too seriously-"

"Too seriously?!"

"You have yet to learn, my man, that Sherlock is prone to reoccurring sudden-death. Quite bothersome, I say- but, after all, it _is_ my brother."


	2. Futility

"Holmes, you must eat something." He said, frustrated.

No response.

"How do expect to help anyone when you're starved half to death?" The good doctor received a dubious glare that was considerably less fierce when viewed through the veil of pipe smoke.

"You can't survive on air, you know."

Sherlock removed the pipe from his mouth. "Thank you for that marvelous bit of insight, Watson." I cringed inwardly at his words- must he always be so harsh to the man?

"Holmes, please-"

"I will return shortly." Sherlock interrupted, rising from his seat on the train.

"Bye Holmes." The doctor hung his head, clearly troubled by my insufferable brother.

I had watched the scene with some amusement and rather unsuccessfully attempted to conceal a snicker, receiving an exhausted glare from Watson. Now was clearly not the time in his opinion, as he was moodily pondering sentiments that mirrored my more serious ones- my brother was wearing himself to nothingness without a care. I greatly admired the good man for trying to change Sherlock's ways, but knew the futility.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, I said, "I had the misfortune of having to grow up with him, Doctor, and if there is one thing that I learned it's: if something concerns getting my brother to do anything against his will, don't bother."

**A/N: I hope that this time I didn't make any mistakes...**


	3. Burgundy

**A/N: I do hope this one turned out well- I wrote it rather late at night... sheepish grin The plot bunny just wouldn't hop away!  
**

**Thank you all for reviewing! I was really happy you guys liked my writing... Anyways, on with the story! (Please review again, of course.)**

I whipped my stick around, striking one man in the head and another in the shoulder. I hit the second man again, and turned to fight the man attempting to throttle Holmes. With one rather powerful wallop to the head, he crumpled to the ground.

"Thank you, Watson." Holmes said breathlessly.

"Of course."

We turned to the men attacking Lestrade and began to battle. Holmes throwing expert blows as I wielded my heavy walking stick. All of a sudden, however, I felt all of the air exit my lungs and I staggered backwards, slamming into the warehouse wall. Lestrade was still fighting, but Holmes turned to me as he incapacitated the last man.

"Are you-"

"Holmes! Watch out!" Holmes's query about my health was interrupted by a panicked cry and tackle from Lestrade. Just as he finished the warning, the report of a revolver rang out. Instinctively, I whipped out my revolver, firing at the shooter and rushing to Holmes.

"Holmes! Are you all right?"

"Other than some bruises, I should be fine by morning." My friend said, turning to give Lestrade a playful glare- only to meet the inspector's wide, fearful eyes and extremely pale face.

Only as we looked down did we see that the left side of his shirt had begun to turn a disconcerting shade of burgundy.


	4. Breathing

**A/N: Thank you all for reviewing- it really makes my day! I'll refrain from writing too much up here, so you all can see whether Lestrade is alright... **

Lestrade faltered and fell to the ground. Holmes and I looked at each other in shock and I immediately knelt down by the inspector while Holmes headed towards the criminal.

"Did- did he get away?" Lestrade asked, gasping in pain. "I heard a shot, and…"

I cut him off. "No he did not escape, nor is he injured too badly, I'm sure. Either way, Holmes is taking care of him now." I said while assessing Lestrade's condition.

"How bad is it?"

"You need surgery, and soon. My medical bag is at home, so we have no choice but to hail a cab to the hospital." Turning to Holmes, I said, "Holmes- is the man secured? Thank you, can you please get us a cab?"

I looked back to see the almost-murderer (I shuddered at the thought) held tightly by Derbies and Holmes running outside.

"I'll need to slow the bleeding by wrapping a makeshift tourniquet." I said, explaining to Lestrade why my jacket was being torn into strips.

"Are the both of you all- all right?" he asked.

Definitely a good man, Lestrade. "Yes, we are quite fine. Now I need you to stop talking and rest so you can conserve your energy. You'll need it."

He nodded and fell silent, the only sound filling the warehouse being his ragged breathing.


	5. Waiting

**A/N: Thanks again for reviewing, guys! This little plot is running far longer than I thought it would... :)**

Holmes re-entered the warehouse to inform me that the Yard would be here shortly- and to check on Lestrade.

"Let us hope they don't take long," I said grimly. "This wound is not the nicest thing I've seen."

Holmes gave me a long look and I could see guilt in his eyes. This man- a "bumbling Yarder" that Holmes so often taunted- had risked his life for him. I was forever indebted to the man, as was Holmes, it seemed.

We sat there in an understanding (and seemingly interminable) silence only broken by Lestrade's jagged breaths when suddenly all noise was gone.

Holmes and I started. _Did I miscalculate how serious the wound was?_ _More importantly, is it too late?_ No- I would not continue this darker chain of thoughts. Ignoring the sinister voice in the back of my mind, I rushed to the Inspector's side. Just as I began to raise his upper body, he sputtered, coughed, and resumed breathing.

As soon as I had lowered Lestrade, I slumped backwards, rather exhausted from the worry. Holmes, who at some point had joined me at the Yarder's side let out a sigh of relief.

"They'd better hurry up." Holmes said, attempting to sound indifferent.

I nodded in agreement, silently praying that the Yard would arrive while Lestrade's heart was still beating.


	6. Arrival

**A/N: Sorry I didn't put this up yesterday, I was at my dad's house... Anyway- thank you for reviewing, please continue to!**

**This chapter is dedicated to all of the reviewers, but especially aragonite... Thank you for your support!**

"They should be here by now." Holmes said, clearly concerned. "I'm going to search outside."

He rose and hurriedly walked out of the warehouse, and began looking while I stayed with Lestrade. The good Inspector was not faring well, which was beginning to worry me. Holmes was right, the Yard should have arrived already…

Just then I heard the sounds of many footsteps and hurried, anxious conversations. Standing up, I came to greet Holmes, Gregson, Hopkins, and quite a few other members of Scotland Yard.

"We need to hurry and get Lestrade to a hospital- he was shot and isn't doing well. So if you please…"

Several of the Yarders understood what they were to do, and began to raise Lestrade onto a stretcher, being extremely wary of his injury. Gregson watched, his eyes large and fearful. Had the situation been less grave, I would have found his concern for his fellow Inspector rather humorous.

The gaggle of Yarders had brought along another cab for Holmes and I, something I was extremely grateful for. After sitting down I continued my physician's duties.

"Holmes, are you all right?"

"I'm quite fine, my dear fellow, don't worry. How about you- I rather lost track of you during the confrontation."

"I've suffered nothing overly terrible, though it seems we've both endured a fair beating."


	7. Waiting Room, Part 1

**A/N: I have a few things to say before this chapter. **

**1. Thank you for reviewing- it's what keeps me going.**

**2. I hope I got enough H/C in here for you guys... (Especially you, E Phoenix!)**

**3. I put the most evil cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. Please don't kill me for it! I know this part is going to be a bit cliche- but it's happening to Lestrade, rather than the boys (just to switch it up).**

**Without further ado-**

"Holmes, stop that infernal pacing! You're going to wear a hole in the linoleum!" Watson admonished. Despite my glare, I acquiesced.

"You mustn't think this is your fault, you know." How the man could read me like a book, I will never understand.

"Why did he do it?" I finally snapped. "What the devil possessed the man to jump in front of me?"

Watson looked startled by my sudden outburst. "Well, he obviously wanted to protect you-"

"Why? He has more to live for than I do- a wife, a good job, a family! All I've ever done is taunt him! I don't-" My friend cut me off.

"My dear fellow, what's done is done. The most we can do is hope this will end for the better. Lestrade is a stubborn man- surely he won't let this be his downfall." I knew he was trying to inject a bit of levity into the situation, but guilt and worry were still a burden on my shoulders. _Imagine, me worried for a Scotland Yard inspector…_ I thought wryly. _Imagine one saving my life._ I shuddered.

Just as I was about to propose that I look for Lestrade's physician, he entered the room.

"Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson. I'm Dr. Hargrove."

I wasn't interested in pleasantries. "How is he?" I demanded.

"Well," he began.

**A/N: Told you!**


	8. Waiting Room, Part 2

**A/N: Finally done with this little plot- it ran far longer than I had planned...**

**Sorry this update is horribly late, but I have been busy spazzing over the 1909 copy of The Strand Magazine (complete with a story by ACD, -no not Sherlock Holmes, unfortunately) that I recieved in the mail... YAY!**

**Anywho... on with the story!**

"The Inspector has Providence on his side, certainly. Despite the weakness caused by blood loss, he'll be fine."

I let the breath I had been holding out. The doctor proceeded to explain how the bullet missed the artery and caused little damage, but I was no longer paying attention. Lestrade would be all right, and that's all I needed to hear.

As soon as Dr. Hargrove left, I dropped into a chair, Watson right beside me.

"I told you he wasn't going to let saving Sherlock Holmes be his last act!" Watson said smiling, clearly relieved that the little Inspector would be okay. I gave a small, quick smile.

"Holmes, you really ought to stop berating yourself about this. It isn't your fault and everyone is fine!" His face was more serious now.

"I know Watson, but I am simply not understanding what happened-

"It's fairly obvious, old fellow!" he said. "Lestrade obviously cares about you to some extent, and instinctively jumped to save you. I would have done the same, had I been in Lestrade's position, just as I'm sure you would do for me."

So that's what this was all about- being altruistic? _"Just as I'm sure you would do for me."_ _Perhaps this is not as incomprehensible as all that_, I thought, as the dawning of realization began.


End file.
